


Redefined

by orphan_account



Series: Undefined [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Followup to Undefined</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redefined

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like cheese, cause cheese this is. Also I feel like this is mostly a reflection on the entertainment industry, woops.

Harry is bent over pulling laundry out of the dryer, carefully folding each article of dark clothing and stacking them in neat piles, when he’s about to leave. The mud room is clean and smells like fresh laundry and Louis stands leaning against the doorframe, observing Harry quietly in nothing but a pair of black TopMan briefs.

He taps his fingers along the top of the washing machine, sliding on top and swinging his legs. Harry doesn’t flinch, “You know, you’re starting to get mold in the rim?”

“Really?” Louis taps his foot against the door of the front loader, not really caring.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, contemplates, and pushes Louis’ legs out of the way so that he can open the door to transfer the wet clothes, “You should try putting some bleach on it.”

“Mkay,” Louis whispers, his phone starts to buzz from his back pocket but he ignores it. Harry bends over again and Louis lets his hands trail down his bare flesh for as long as possible. He lets his arms encircle Harry’s middle, absentmindedly tracing down the bumps of his vertebrae protruding from his back, “You know, if the music thing doesn’t work out, you’d make an awfully good house husband.”

“Really?” Harry raises his eyebrows and Louis gets the sense that he’s still tired and jetlagged as his eyes droop slightly more than usual.

“Yeah,” Louis nods, his hands sliding to the understand of his rear, tracing the lines where his briefs meet the cheeks of his bum, “You can do the laundry, cook, bake cookies, take care of me.”

“Take care of you yeah?” Harry lets his chin fall in the crease of his neck and absorbs the warmth that Louis emits.

Louis shrugs and the ringing of his phone notifies him that it’s time to leave, “Only if you want.”

Harry pulls away and nudges Louis’ nose with his own, and presses a kiss to Louis’ lips, humming lightly, “You better go.”

“Mr. Sensible,” Louis mumbles in reply, taking a step back but letting his hands slide down Harry’s forearm until their hands connected, steadying himself on the two foot fall to the ground, “See you later, ya?”

“Didn’t fly halfway across the world for nothing,” Harry presses one more kiss to his lips with a smile, “Have fun.”

“Don’t cause too much trouble,” Louis can feel Harry’s large hands grasp his hips as he slides shoes on his feet, stabling his body as he hops while trying to force on his already tied shoes.

“I’ll try not to baby,” Harry replies, letting his hands slip off his hips as Louis opens the door to the garage.

“Love you,” Louis tosses a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he presses the button to open the garage.

Harry holds the door and waits for Louis to exit the garage before pressing the button again, “You too love.”

Louis winks back and throws open the door to the car as he watches the garage door descend upon the ground. Niall and Liam are waiting inside the van, typing on their phones and Louis slides up next to them and rests his chin on Liam’s shoulder, “What’s the news today boys?”

“Nothing,” Liam responds without even a glance and Niall shrugs in agreement. Their manager is in the front, debriefing them on where they’re going and who they’re doing interviews for.

“How’s loverboy?” Niall prods with a teasing lilt, poking him in the stomach with the bones of his elbow.

Louis smirks with a devilish look in his eye, “Doing laundry.”

“You’re shitting me!” Niall exclaims, laughing into the palm of his hand and Liam glances up in appreciation and holds his hand out for Louis to slap, “You lucky bastard”

“Boys, boys, boys, you haven’t even heard the best part” Louis shakes his head, grasping each of their shoulders awkwardly, “He was doing it in his briefs.”

Liam groans and Niall’s head falls limp against the window and he rolls his eyes, “We get it Lou, you’re in the sack, blah blah blah.”

“You guys just do not seem to appreciate a good looking man in black briefs,” Louis shakes his head, tisking under his breath, “You haven’t live yet.”

-

Louis, Liam, and Niall line up for their interviews. As usual Louis breaks the ice, joking about and laughing at inappropriate times. Niall follows along and Liam repeats their usual mantra about how thankful they are for their fans.

Interviewer after interviewer repeats the same questions and one actually gives them some good questions. Louis is tired by the end of the day, the last interviewer asks who is single.

Niall and Liam half raise their palms willingly and Louis sits slumped in his chair, a gentle smirk raising on his lips and the interviewer points him out. Louis shrugs and admits he’s maybe seeing someone but doesn’t give any more hints and certainly doesn’t mention Harry’s name.

-

Harry is a wonderer by nature.

That’s how he got the inspiration to write his first album. Every song he wrote was about people he met on the streets in Manchester after he moved out of his mum’s home or people that he met at the bakery or people that he met while traipsing around the University of Manchester to scope out new artists and bands.

The result was a combination of tragic songs about life, love, abandon, and death.

Los Angeles was a tough place to find this inspiration.

He wonders around the city, takes the bus, avoids the malls and everyone is so annoying and addicted to their digital boxes to the point that it’s annoying. The only place where he remotely finds something different is at the eclectic Venice beach but it’s nothing song worthy.

Then, he concludes, that Los Angeles has a cover. Everyone puts on a happy facade in a superficial land of small dogs, beachy but not high end fashion, near perfect weather, and good looking people.

The gloomy weather of England is much more suited to his writing style.

Sometimes while Louis is working he ventures to tattoo shops, inks his skin without thought and listens to what has got to be the most interesting people in the city talk about their lives.

Louis comes home, sometimes late at night after television performances and sometimes early in the afternoon.

Harry finds himself cooking more and spending time at farmer’s markets and foreign markets. He adores the fresh strawberries and the pink dribble that falls down Louis’ chin when he chomps into an overgrown one.

He finds himself memorizing Louis. The lighter strands of his hair and his blue eyes and the tips of his broken finger nails when he traces the outlines of his new tattoos and the way his hips move when he sings a mediocre version of Adele in the shower.

And he tries to write the tragic songs, he really does. His fingers prick at the strings of his guitar and he finds his tongue tying and spits out thoughts he didn’t know he had.

Maybe the music is angsty and a long coming, that his life was such trash for a long time and things are looking up and his lyrics are mushy but witty and he just can’t stop writing about the way his body and mind soften when Louis is pressing his lips to his mouth and his neck and his tattoos. He writes about how he craves the attention, that his life has been unfullfilled and he’s been unloved for so long and now he’s gaining attention and he’s got a love life.

It tears him apart. There’s a certain comfort in self pity.

But if there’s one word to describe Louis it would be cheeky, and it takes Harry out of his self made reverie.

-

It’s no secret that the best way to hide a secret is to keep it in plain sight.

Harry and Louis spend an incredible amount of time together that fall, while Harry is planning to record a quick collaboration in December and Louis finishes up their next album.

Louis begs and begs Harry to write two more songs for the album and Harry gets so fed up with him that he forces Louis to sit at the dining table with paper and pen and tells him to brainstorm ideas and they can talk about it later.

The self indulging smirk on his face when Harry finishes the melody of a love song on his guitar that they wrote makes Harry grin and Louis promises to make love to him when they finish the studio version of the song.

Louis raves about the song and working together like crazy during interviews that week.

Louis forces him into going to see Lincoln and mumbles about American history on their way to a theatre on Tuesday at noon.

And he doesn’t shut up for a single moment in the almost empty theatre, save for an old couple in the front row. He pulls out how he and Harry are oh so similar to the tragic couple (Harry look at the height difference, Harry he talks slow like you, Harry he tells useless stories, Harry I’m sassy like her). His back is rest upon the cup holder and he’s propped up the one between himself and Harry, legs slung over Harry’s lap while he traces from his knee towards his crotch, getting closer every time he inches up.

Louis grasps his arm and tugs him closer when he stops paying attention, lets his lips mingle with Harry’s for a little while. Harry’s body moves closer and his fingers slowly trail over the zipper of his jeans. Louis sucks in a breath when Harry’s mouth nips at his neck and he pops open the top button of his short sleeved blue shirt.

Harry tugs at the zipper of his jeans and Louis looks at him incredulously as he slides down so his body is laying across more than a few seats. They’re in the back row and Louis glances up to see if anyone in the projection room can see them as he hisses Harry’s name.

Harry shushes him and continues with Louis’ jeans, popping open the button and tugging them down till they, along with his boxer briefs, reach his knees. Harry slides forward again and lets slip a breath of hot air and Louis recoils in shock.

All he can think is holy shit Harry’s giving him a blow job in public.

Harry treats it like a lollipop like the blowjob tutorial video he’d had to watch after that tragically miserable one back by the pool in December taught him. He wants to laugh just thinking about it but stops so he doesn’t drag his teeth across Louis’ sensitive skin.

He can hear Louis’ quiet sharp intakes of breath as he takes him deeper and he closes in on his climax. Louis can feel his throat contract as he swallows deeply and he does everything he can not to release a manly shout as Harry slips up with a cocky grin on his face. He doesn’t bother to cup his mouth next to Harry’s ear as he tilts his head back to catch his breath, “You’re getting really good at that.”

Harry smiles confidently and trails his hand up Louis’ thigh, motioning for him to lift his bottom up the chair and he carefully slides his jeans and briefs back up his legs, carefully tucking him in before sliding up the zipper and refastening the button.

Louis moves his position so that Harry slumps in his seat and he can wrap his arm over his shoulder, and both prop their feet on the seats in front of him. Louis swipes a pack of gum out of his pocket, sliding a piece into his mouth and tilts his head to breath warmly on Harry’s ear, “Want a piece?”

Harry rolls his forehead along Louis’ and whispers a barely audible, “Yeah.” But instead of accepting the package held out to him, he stoops his lips to cover Louis’ and slips his tongue into the slipperiness. Their usual teamwork turns to a game and Louis’ on the defense. Harry manages to swipe the piece of gum from Louis and leaves a salty taste in the older man’s mouth.

-

October rolls around and the heat increases in L.A. and England continues its religious return to frozen tundra.

Harry finds himself staking out at his new London flat much more than his cozy Manchester lowrise that he calls home. His bank account is starting to raise from the new record deal so he buys soft sheets and warm comforters and a soft mattress with a feather bed on top.

The flat doesn’t smell like his cologne with a slight hint of Louis’ and the couch doesn’t sink and the clean stainless steel appliances don’t compare to the burned flour on his stove top in Manchester.

He wraps his coat tight around his body when he ventures to radio stations. Crowds are starting to pick up and he signs as many cd’s as he can and takes pictures with fans who’ve waited hours in the cold and rain.

It’ll have been a month when Louis arrives in London late October since the last time they saw each other.

Louis likes to facetime and skype and Harry thinks it’s cheesy but plays along and praises Louis as he strums along on the guitar he ‘accidentally’ left in L.A. to a song that Harry didn’t teach him and Harry is impressed with his exponential progress.

It’s late in London when Harry gets confirmation that Louis’ on his flight to London. He grabs a beer from the fridge and his sock clad feet bounce upon his coffee table while he lounges on the couch impatiently.

Harry is nervous and anxious and knows that he’s got a good ten hours before he could even think about receiving Louis’ demands to pick him up from the airport.

So he pulls out his laptop and starts a twitcam, something he hasn’t done in plenty time. He alternates between playing some of his favourite songs and answers a few questions in between.

Somebody asks him if he’s ever been in love and he honest to God contemplates the question for a while.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love but I’m willing to bet I’m falling in love right now.”

-

Louis lands mid morning and Harry circles Heathrow three times before Louis figures out what happened to his luggage. He slides into the passenger seat and waits until they’re at a stoplight a few blocks down before he tugs Harry’s chin and presses his chapped lips to Harry’s until a car honks and Harry realizes the light has turned green. He cranks the heat in the car up and rests his hand on Harry’s thigh as he maneuvers to the building that Louis’ never seen before.

He pushes the car door open and lowers his sunglasses at the white building, shivering in the chill. Harry’s unlatching the boot of the car and Louis wraps his arms tight around him from behind. Harry eases the large suitcase to the ground before he turns his back to the car and feels his body collide with the bumper. Louis’ hands reach to tangle in curls and Harry slumps and uses the car to level his body at Louis’ height.

Louis’ lips press to his own momentarily before he pulls for a hug and Harry’s hands are sliding down the waist of Louis’ thin jacket to the belt loops of his jeans and into the back pockets. His mouth presses into Louis’ neck and he pecks gently and curls around Louis at the feeling of his hands massaging the back of his head.

Louis shivers and Harry pulls his head back and Louis keeps one hand locked on Harry’s waist and the other clutched around the handle of his suitcase.

-

Harry is showered and prim and ready for his radio promo when he finds out.

Geoff is sat on the couch with a grim look and Harry sees the magazine sitting next to where his phone is charging on the countertop. The picture is fuzzy, they all are, but when he opens the magazine it is clear that it is indeed them, pictures of their unsheltered faces seconds before their embrace.

Harry looks over at Geoff and gets the feeling that he’s not feeling too hot about the situation either, “The label wants you asap.”

“Can I,” His hands start to shake and he forgets about making his morning tea, “C-Can I have a few-”

“Yes,” Geoff answers before he can spit his words out. Harry retreats to his bedroom, magazine in hands and slides into his bed fully clothed. Louis is half awake from Harry’s noise and rolls over, arm slithering around Harry’s waist.

“Morning darling,” Louis mumbles as his nose brushes against Harry’s cheek.

Harry slides him the magazine and Louis pushes himself up so that his back is resting against the headboard. Harry pulls his legs up to his chest and feels embarrassed that they caught him with his hands in Louis’ back pockets.

“Okay,” Louis nods and sets the magazine on the nightstand next to him.

“Okay?” Harry breathes and pinches his nose, “Okay.”

“Harry, Harry,” Louis grasps onto his elbow, trying to pull him out of his fetal position, “Harry there’s nothing we can do.”

“I know,” He takes a shaky breath and slides the covers off his body, “I gotta go. I just thought-”

“Harry,” Louis sighs, standing and catching him before he leaves the room, he pulls his head down and presses his lips to Harry’s, “We couldn’t hide it forever.”

Harry nods and keeps his eyes squeezed shut tight and Louis thinks he’s trying not to cry. The deep breath he tries to take just comes out shaky.

“It’s going to be okay Haz,” Louis rubs at his rough hand and Harry turns to leave, nodding his head along.

Louis shoots a look at a sullen Geoff and Louis imagines he feels just as terrible as himself at the moment. He follows Harry to the door and watches as he slides his shoes on and Louis hands him his long navy coat. Harry rests his hand on the door and Louis stops him, resting his hand on Harry’s shoulder and nudging him so that he can press a kiss to his cheek, “I love you.”

Harry lowers his eyes and hopes that it is somewhere around Louis height and mutters, “Love you too.”

“You’ll be fine baby,” Louis gives one last squeeze to his shoulder and moves out of the way, Geoff moving to follow Harry through the door and Louis shudders at the cold air that hits his bare chest.

When the door clicks shut he retreats to the window in the living room, kneeling on the couch and parting the blinds so that he can get a good look at the parking lot below, where Harry’s car was parked and coincidentally where those pictures were taken.

Louis groans at the sight of paparazzi, their cameras braced over the waist high concrete barriers and Louis knows they’ll be able to get a couple hundred HD pictures of Harry leaving the building. Like he was holding a cue card from the window, flashes start and Louis winces as Harry keeps his head pointed at the ground as he slides into his car. He struggles to get out of the parking lot, photogs surrounding the exit.

-

Harry tries his best to stay focused on the road, willing himself to not run any stoplights and is overwhelmingly relieved that the building he is entering has a gate and he can’t get photographed on his entrance to the building.

Somehow he manages to parallel park and Geoff is behind him as he stares at the condescending building, “It’s now or never.”

“They’re going to kill me.”

“They won’t kill you,” Geoff assures and maybe kill isn’t the right phrase but maybe drop from the label is, “It’ll be fine.”

Harry shakes his head and lets his curls tangle with his eyelashes, “It’ll be fine.”

The receptionist recognizes them right away with wide eyes and Harry feels uncomfortable and it reminds him of the look his mother gave him when he came out, that I can’t believe there’s a homosexual standing in front of me look. Or maybe it’s a holy shit Harry Styles just got outed by the paparazzi look. Harry really doesn’t care and he expects more. She informs him that they are waiting for him upstairs in a conference room.

Geoff and Harry opt for the stairs, Geoff says he’ll do all the talking and Harry’s hands begin to shake again, “They don’t know.”

“They sure as hell know now,” Geoff grumbles, tucking his hands into his pockets. When they reach the door Geoff stands in front of it and stops Harry, “I know you haven’t had the best experience coming out in the past but you’ve got me and you’ve got Louis and we’re going to get through this, alright?”

Harry nods because it can not be as bad as it was last time, that nothing could be as bad as losing his family and takes a deep breath and tells himself to man up and deal with his mistakes. Geoff pushes the door open and there’s about twenty people sitting around a table, everyone from PR to producers to his boss. Harry and Geoff take the two open seats.

“I do not know where to begin,” Simon, owner of the record label begins, “Actually I do. Would you prefer to do your tell all on television or in a magazine?”

Harry’s fingernails dig into his palm, Geoff starts to speak but Harry cuts him off, “I’m not doing a tell all.”

“You’re doing a tell all,” One of the PR women speaks up, “I’ve got Louis’ publicist on the line and we’ve got E! and People lined up in the states.”

“He’s not doing a tell all,” Geoff repeats, making spectacular eye contact with the woman, “And you can hang up on Louis’ publicist he’s not involved.”

“If we are going to sell this relationship, he’s sure as hell involved,” Another person pipes up and Harry is sure Geoff doesn’t even know who half these people are.

“Louis is already out and gay,” Geoff states flatly, “We are not going to sell a relationship. Harry’s relationship is private and none of the public’s business.”

Simon looks at him like he’s insane, “If they’re going to traipse around in public it is the public’s business.”

“They were on private property,” Geoff repeats, “It was not their faults, a neighbor took the pictures from a third level apartment.”

Harry’s mouth drops because he knew the pictures were taken from above ground but knowing someone in his apartment building was responsible scared the shit out of him.

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t undo these pictures,” Simon lays a paper on the table and it floats toward Harry on the table, “I think it’s best in the meantime that you consent to this statement and we’ve got a tweet scripted for you.”

“No,” Harry doesn’t even look at the statement, doesn’t even touch it, “I’m not releasing a statement, I’ll tweet whatever the hell I want to tweet.”

“Harry, I don’t think you understand,” A man speaks up from before, “How long have you and this boy had a relationship for.”

“That’s none of your business,” Harry crosses his arms and shrinks into bad posture in his chair.

“Well then,” The man lays papers and pictures on the table, “I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you. They are going to talk about you, the band is, Louis is, and you are going to look like an asshole if you don’t do something before him.”

Harry swipes a picture and begins to tear it into little pieces, “I don’t care if they talk about me. I don’t talk about my personal life, never have, never will.”

“Harry you are living in naivety,” This man, who knows absolutely nothing about him keeps going, “That is not how this business works, it may have worked when you were still working in a bakery and doing shows to fifty people in Manchester, it doesn’t work when you’re getting nominated for awards and doing international tours.”

“I don’t care,” Harry pushes himself away from the table, “I refuse to be the person who sells records because he has a sad coming out of the closet story or because he’s soaking up a boyband member’s fame.”

Geoff signals for him to return to the table and Harry shakes his head.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Harry glances at his watch before sliding his jacket over his shoulders, “I believe I have a radio exclusive to record.”

“Canceled,” Simon speaks from his spot.

“Don’t care,” Harry turns his head and leaves, letting the door shut slowly and much softer than he wished. He is still technically a teenager and that’s got to constitute for a flare of dramatics.

Geoff rises from his seat as well and Simon and the others glare at him, “You need to get that boy in line.”

“You know what?” Geoff slides his own coat on, prepared to rush and follow Harry and maybe scold him for walking out of an important meeting, “You don’t know a thing about him and I actually think he knows what he’s doing.”

-

Harry’s mood has swung from scared and shaken to frustrated. He pulled his car rather quickly into a parking spot at a familiar radio station but no one was outside, word of his cancellation had apparently spread. When he reached the receptionist desk he delivered a harsh, “Harry Styles, I’m here for a radio exclusive.”

The receptionist looks startled and panicked and swallows quickly, “Mr. Styles, I’m sorry we weren’t expecting you, um, you can take a seat while I inform somebody you’re here.”

Harry hears an argument as she scurrys off, mumbled ‘he simply can’t be here’ ‘it’s impossible’ and he hears them saying to inform the radio DJ to go back to the plan from earlier. Harry’s got his guitar resting beside him, it had been left in his car and it was not the one he wanted to use but he tells himself to man up and deal with his mistakes.

“Harry,” A man greets and offers his hand for Harry to shake, “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

“You too,” Harry nods and his eyes are wondering but he really doesn’t care.

“You can follow me,” Harry follows and he’s lead to the usual recording room, soundproof with wooden panels and Harry sits on the ground and leans against a wall to tune his guitar, “Basically we’ll have the DJ give a quick introduction and cue you, it’ll be live but we’ll also be recording it to upload to youtube. There’s cameras in the upper right hand corner or the room and we’ll have one through the glass and a cameraman will most likely be in here as you play. Any questions? Problems? Can I get you some tea or coffee?”

“No problems,” Harry shakes his head and he’s done this so many times but he feels overwhelmed, “Some tea would be lovely.”

“Of course,” He scurrys out of the room and Harry realizes he doesn’t have his phone with him and he really just wants to talk to Zayn and maybe read a text from Louis saying it’s going to be okay.

“Mr. Styles,” The receptionist props the door open and pops her head in, “There is a man by the name of Geoff claiming he’s a part of your entourage, should I let him in?”

“Yes, please,” Harry gives a soft smile because she seems sweet enough and is trying to hide her shock.

Geoff enters and slides down next to him and doesn’t say anything, “Can I use your phone?”

“Course,” Geoff slides it out of his pocket and Harry frantically dials a number.

Zayn picks up and Harry’s voice cracks and he musters out a whisper, “Zayn?”

Zayn sighs of relief through the phone, “Harry, you’re okay.”

Harry feels his lip tremble like a little kid and he tells himself to man up, he’s an adult afterall, “I know.”

“Harry, it’s okay to cry,” Zayn assures and Harry cracks a little more and he’s about to hang up.

“I’m doing a radio performance,” Harry refutes because he really doesn’t have much time and it’s even less because he still has to tune his guitar.

“I’m coming to London, okay?” Zayn’s voice is soothing and Harry lolls his head against the wall, “Okay, I’m almost there, Louis’ at your apartment right? He’ll let me in? Geoff will drive you back?”

“Yeah, Louis’ll-” He cuts himself off and he’s not sure if he can make it through his performance and he reminds himself it’s two songs, he can do it.

“Harry, promise me you’ll let Geoff drive you home, okay?” Harry nods and knows Zayn understands, “Okay, I’m going to let you go, you’re going to be fine, promise.”

Harry nods again and hangs up. Geoff swipes the phone and is holding the tea they brought in. Harry downs it without a breath, letting the hot substance burn his throat and hoping that it’ll help. He stands up and wishes that they could’ve spiked it with some whiskey or something strong.

Maybe he should’ve thought through this.

But he does fine and doesn’t think he’s completely screwed up his reputation as a singer even though he runs out of breath on his second song. He tosses Geoff his keys and mumbles something incoherent but he thinks he said Zayn loud enough that Geoff got the implication.

While he was inside word spread that he was here, people were gathered around the perimeter of his car and the moment he steps out the building people are shouting at him. It mostly blends together into a rumble of Louis Tomlinson and Gay and HARRYHARRYHARRY.

He thinks he’s doing fine and he keeps his mouth shut tight even though they aren’t shouting anything nearly as incriminating as they possibly could but stereotypes in general kind of piss him off and he’s on the edge of crying and wanting to punch a window in. Geoff manages to pull his door open first and Harry has to weed through the statues glued to the ground with cameras blinding him. He really thinks he’s fine until he sees that someone has scratched a messy FAG into the side of his door and he consequently thinks he’s being pushed over the centimeter high barrier that was keeping him from falling over the edge of crying.

He manages to keep himself composed until they pull out of the parking lot and Geoff is driving manually and Harry slides in his seat and Geoff realizes that something has happened when a tear slips down his cheek.

Geoff squeezes at his thigh encouragingly, “I know it seems bad now, but in a month Harry, everything’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Harry whispers and blows on the cold window so that it fogs up and he draws a heart with a zigzag line through it.

“I think you and Louis just need to sit down and talk, he’s been through this be-”

“Geoff, please, just,” Harry tries to take a deep breath, “I can’t anymore. I, just, I can’t lose anymore Geoff, I really can’t.”

Geoff wants to assure that this isn’t going to end his career, and that if anything else he’s going to get some major press out of this but knows better of it when Harry lets his head hit the window a little harder than necessary.

Zayn’s car isn’t in the parking lot when they arrive and Harry wants to well up even more and he stays in his seat and Geoff glares at him through the window in the car and then he sees the offensive language scratched in the pant and takes a heavy sigh. Harry finally musters up the strength and photographers snap pictures as he runs quickly inside.

His feet pound up the steps until he reaches his level and Geoff is dragging behind. He helps himself in after Harry’s entrance and glances around and sees Louis sitting with his laptop propped on the kitchen counter, “How’s it looking?”

Louis smiles in a pained way, knowing that it’s unfortunate but from his side everything seems more than positive from his fans, “Great, actually. My fans think he’s foxy.”

Geoff laughs and nods and is appreciative for that at least and signals towards the door as Harry enters dressed in pajama pants and a large jumper, “I’m going to see if I can make any amends with the label. Call if you need anything.”

Louis nods and encourages him to go, “I got him.”

Geoff lets the door shut softly and Louis slams the laptop closed as Harry approaches, “Zayn’s on his way.”

“I know,” Harry nods, pushing the laptop away from him and taking Louis’ warm seat as he starts the kettle and grabs some marshmallow’s from the pantry and puts them in the microwave and watches them grow but stopping before they exploded. He drizzles some chocolate sauce on top and adds a scoop of ice cream.

Harry laughs and he sincerely thinks it’s the closest thing to cooking he’s ever seen Louis doing, “Is this my repayment for all the meals and bakery goods I’ve made for you?”

“See, if you really put your mind to something, you can succeed,” Louis pushes the plate between the two of them with two spoons, Louis goes straight for the marshmallow and Harry the ice cream.

Harry rolls his eyes because Louis is sarcastic and quick and witty, “Honestly, how’re things going?”

Louis sighs and spoons chocolate sauce with his silver, “You know, it’s being debated. People are in shock. What you said last night doesn’t really help.”

Harry nods and keeps his head pointed towards the plate as Louis trails his hand up his back and lets his head rest on his shoulder, “If it helps you’ve gained a shit load of 3D followers.”

Harry smiles and nods and chuckles and his eyes maybe turn a shade closer to green again, “They think you’re too talented for me.”

Then he really grins and Louis’ satisfied, “Great fans you’ve got there.”

“I know,” Louis agrees and shuffles as close as possible without falling off his bar stool, “But honestly Harry, I don’t think much has been done that’ll be detrimental to your career.”

Harry nods and sighs and looks at Louis with pleading eyes and he sighs again, “I, I know that to most people it seems like I wanted to keep this a secret for my mental health but,” he stammers and Louis knows where he’s going with this, “I kind of just wanted to prove a point, that I could be famous without my personal life being exploited.”

Louis stops and thinks and moves his chin from resting on Harry’s shoulder and replaces it with his cheek, “We can still keep it toned down as much as possible Harry, we’ve kept it a secret for eight months, a year if you count from the first time we slept together.”

He smiles weakly and squeezes Louis’ hand on top of his spoon, “You don’t have to Lou.”

“But if it’s important to you Harry, I want to.”

Harry hears the door click and knows that Zayn’s arrived but he tries to make eye contact with Louis, “I love you.”

Louis’ eyes are ripe and blue and filled with emotion, “I know.”

-

Louis and Harry manage to keep their relationship top secret and hidden until mid December. Harry manages to finish his collaboration and books a few Jingle Balls, including one in Madison Square Garden where Three Directions happens to also be performing.

Photographers go crazy when they land together at LAX after the last performance. Harry cringes at the flashes and remains a decent distance away from Louis and the pictures are sold for a significant amount of money but there’s not much reason to.

Louis has a string of promotions for the new album and Harry spends his time Christmas shopping. The next time they are spotted together was when they left Louis’ release party together.

Harry tags along with Louis for Christmas and his birthday, taking in the warmth of the house and presses his nose to the window as it snows in the District of Columbia. Louis wraps a tied felt blanket around his shoulders and crawls in behind him.

On Christmas morning Harry is the first one awake, he shakes Louis until the smaller boy peeks an eye open and presses his head into Harry’s caressing hand, “Happy Christmas.”

Louis rolls his eyes and Harry is sitting up so he wraps his arms around Harry’s thigh and sighs, “It’s merry in America.”

“Guess who gives a shit?” Harry quirks an eyebrow and plays with Louis fringe, “Not me.”

Louis chuckles at the bad humor and curls into the body heat, “Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t,” Harry whispers back and tugs back the covers so that goosebumps erupt on Louis’ smooth expanse of skin, “Let’s make tea and coffee and breakfast.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, “It’s seven.”

“Please baby,” Harry moves to straddle Louis’ waist, pinning his arms above his head, “Please? Pancakes. C’mon what’s Christmas morning without pancakes?”

“I don’t know,” Louis sighs and moves once Harry’s lips suction to his own. Harry dresses him and slides his arms through a knitted jumper that Louis curls into.

Harry tends to the stove and Louis spectates from the counter, passing on the coffee and sipping Harry’s hot tea when his mom reaches the kitchen and hems and haws at Harry’s work. She slips her arms around Louis’ waist and whispers in his ear how happy she is to have him home and that Harry is definitely her favorite.

The girls moan and groan when they find out that they have to eat before they can open the piles of presents that spread along the living room. Harry slumps and curls under Louis’ arm and clutches his mug tight and the smile doesn’t leave his face.

It’s been awhile since Harry has had Christmas plans, he usually spends the day in a surprisingly unempty movie theatre watching some drama he doesn’t give a shit about. He presses kisses to Louis’ cheek until his face is beet red and whispers his thanks over and over again.

Louis slyly slides him a Tiffany box when they’re in his room, Harry pinning Louis to the mattress in a fake fight and legs straddled across his stomach. Harry slides his fingers across the texture and debates opening it, but when he does he sees a sterling silver chain with a silver edged turquoise stone set in the middle. Harry smiles and fiddles with the paper airplane and cross pendants already fastened around his neck, his fingers trickle the swirls and he carefully pulls it out of the package, “I love it Lou.”

Harry’s hand trickles up his chest and Louis’ breath hitches, “Good.”

His fingers clumsily unfasten the clip and Harry presses it into Louis’ hands, “Put it on me?”

Louis crumbles as Harry leans forward, still straddling him and pressing his chest to his own. His fingers shake as he tries to connect the small piece of metal with the tinier loop as Harry closes all the distance between them and tucks his head in Louis neck, breathing heavily.

Harry pulls away instantly and jumps off of Louis’ body, tugging him up and Louis is startled and flustered as Harry tugs the door open and bounds down the flight of stairs before tugging him to the basement.

“Your present’s down here,” Harry nods and tugs him down the stairs, hands clasped tight. He grins at the large gold and white wrapped present, “I think you’re going to like it.”

Louis uses his finger nail to tear the paper as he traces his hand down the side. It bunches up and Louis pulls back the wrapping to reveal a plain white box with some large numbers on it. He peels at the tape and tips the package on its side so that a leather case slides out and it’s suspiciously shaped like a guitar, “You didn’t?”

Harry grins and he realizes this is the first real present he’s given, that he’s put time and money and thought into and he’s satisfied with the result. He bites on his lip and grins into the kiss that Louis presses to his mouth before he even unlatches the buckle, “But I did.”

“You’re too good for me Styles,” Louis shakes his head and Harry unlatches a few clips, revealing the light wood identical to one of his own and Louis traces his hand down the ridges of the frets, “Really Harry, I love it.”

“Good,” Harry repeats nudging Louis in the thigh and pressing a kiss to his neck, he pulls it out of the case and tries to tune it by ear, “I’ll show you how to tune it later.”

“M’kay,” Louis responds and rests his chin on Harry’s shoulder as he pricks and twists and reaches into his pocket for some picks and passes the guitar to Louis. He strums at a few chords, blushing when he fumbles but Harry moves his hand slightly and encourages him to try again.

“I’ve got one more thing to show you,” Harry mumbles and slides a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket, leaving it folded and wrapping it in Louis’ hands, “Read it.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and squints out of confusion at the distinct blue and yellow paper, “Mr. Styles, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to attend the University of Southern California as a non-degree seeking student for the spring semester of 2013 in the school of music.”

Louis stops at that and glances at him incredulously, “You’re moving to L.A.?”

“For a little while at least,” Harry lets his hand trail up the line of jean on Louis’ short leg, “I wanted to take some classes before I release the next album, learn a bit more about the industry and producing, and what better place to do that than L.A.?”

“I like the way you think Styles,” He’s overwhelmed by Harry’s presence and giggles when he’s pushed backwards onto the carpeting of the floor. He sighs gently as Harry’s thumb traces over his eyelids and around his ears, “You know what? I think I might genuinely love you Harry Styles.”

“I think I might genuinely love you back Louis Tomlinson.”

“Good.”

-

Harry stakes out at Louis’ house starting mid-January. He’s got three classes in producing and his messenger bag is weighed down by heavy books and Louis follows him to his rental car like an overprotective mother on his first day.

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Louis hooks his fingers through the loops of his jeans and he uses his hand to cup Louis’ cheek.

“I’m absolutely sure love,” His thumb traces over Louis’ eyebrow and he tosses the bag into the backseat.

“And you know where you’re going?” He reassures, his hand interlocking with Harry’s and removing it from his cheek.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry nods and he pecks Louis’ lips softly and pulls away, “I’ll call you, promise.”

“Okay, love you,” Louis wraps his arms around himself as Harry pulls the door open and slides into the car, he steps back and waves as he backs down the driveway and Louis waves back when he glances back up from the street.

Harry pads around campus and receives strange looks because nobody really knows he’s technically a student now. Reading the map he’s got proves harder than he thought and he ends up asking for directions inside the wrong building.

He finds his sound engineering class half a minute before it begins and the professor launches right into discussion, going over the syllabus with enthusiasm and presenting a slide show with a preview of what they’d be learning over the course of the semester.

Harry isn’t so much concerned about making all his classes and doing his homework, he’s more interested in the experience and picking up tips to store in his brain.

He first skips class in February, leaving for London to attend the Brits and debut a new, very different, single from the album he’s planning on releasing late spring.

The song ends up evolving into a sort of rap, about all the negativity of the industry. How he doesn’t need a record label and how he really doesn’t give a shit about what the press say about his sexuality and about how he’s disgusted at how superficial the music business is.

It surprises most people and Louis’ not there to reassure him that it was a good surprise and he stumbles through the night of star studded musicians with nothing but his glass of alcohol.

He misses Valentine’s day by a couple hours but has arranged for a large bouquet to be delivered to their kitchen countertop and carefully arranged for Liam to leave a copy of his new CD tucked amidst the aroma of his florals.

Harry knows it’s worked when Louis tweets a picture of the home burned CD and types something along the lines of ‘Best Valentines Day present ever, been on repeat all day xxx’.

When he gets back to L.A. the cold concrete house warms his heart and he realizes that it doesn’t seem like that first description that Louis gave him two Octobers ago. But Louis greets him at the door and tugs him down for a kiss and begins to gush over the album ‘you couldn’t even imagine baby, it’s so amazing, I love it.’

Louis tugs him onto his lap at his computer desk and opens the iTunes file on his computer. It pulls up with unnamed songs and Louis forces Harry to name every single one because ‘Track 1’ simply will not do.

“Name,” Louis demands and Harry groans because he certainly has not thought through the name for the album and he hesitates, “C’mon Harry this can’t go on without a name.”

He succumbs to the light kisses on his neck and tilts his head back, “I was thinking +.”

Louis smiles and nods and thinks of fucking course because the last album was entitled ‘-’ and it makes so much sense and he really should’ve anticipated that from the lyrics of the songs, “I like it.”

Harry pushes himself up and complains about needing to at least do some work because he’s missed at least one of each of his classes. Louis makes him some tea and tosses a blanket around his torso while he curls up on a chair out back in the unusually cool January evening.

About an hour in he hears soft moans echoing through the yard. His instincts tell him to look around and faintly he can see through a bare tree into the neighbor’s yard. He can make out a woman, straddling her male counterpart and grinding her hips into his pelvis. His hands are slipping up her stomach and pushing the triangles of her bikini away from her breasts and Harry tugs his lip between his teeth.

Louis pokes his head out of the accordion door and starts in a loud voice, “Harry are you-”

Harry turns his head with a devilish grin and holds his finger up to his lips for Louis to be quiet before quirking his finger motioning for Louis to come over. Louis cautiously steps and hears the sounds as Harry lifts the blanket from his lap and motions for Louis to slip under and onto his lap.

Louis can feel his half hard wood beneath his bum as Harry rests the blanket over his shoulders and slides his hands to his waist, “Look.”

Louis’ eyes widen as he sees what Harry is focused on and whispers a harsh “Harry, we can’t-”

Harry hushes him with a quiet ‘shh’ and Louis’ mouth drops as Harry’s hand moves to cup the intersection where his two legs split. He pushes his back into Harry’s as he settles and takes one last glance over his shoulder.

Harry meets his lips with a gentle kiss and he carefully releases them after they’re a shade redder.

Harry’s hand kneads at Louis’ growing bulge and Louis rocks his bum into Harry’s hips a few times as the pressure against his back increases. Louis watches as Harry mimicks the man’s actions next door, his hands fiddling around his nipples and drifting down the soft expanses of his stomach underneath his hoodie. His lips press into Louis’ neck with light kisses and he sucks at the skin gently. Next door, his neighbor is sliding down her partner’s wet swim trunks and Harry slips his hand down the elastic band of Louis’ boxers. Louis sucks in his breath as he turns his head to catch Harry’s beady eyes as he concentrates on the woman next door, slowly straddling and sliding down the male’s perky dick.

His breath hitches when Harry’s hand clasps all the way around his own and he throws his head back into Harry’s shoulder at the feeling. Harry adjusts his hips and gets distracted by the friction of their bodies as they watch the nameless female swivel her hips as she halts the bouncing ride she was performing before. Harry is panting quietly in his ear as she mesmerizingly rolls her body back and forth on the pleasured man, her long hair tickling his knees as she closes her eyes and leans her head back.

Louis’ hands reach around Harry’s arms and squeeze in encouragement at the roaming of his body, leaving his boxers and squeezing his flannel clad thighs as she returns to her rhythmic bouncing movement. Harry’s mouth stops sucking and his body stops moving as he nibbles at the bottom of Louis’ ear and whispers, “Holy fuck.”

Louis nods purposefully in agreement and the moans get louder and the man whose hands were once clutching her hips began to thrust upward with her bounces and his own groans were audible and a litany of cusses swam from his mouth as their climaxes approached. Louis grabbed Harry’s hand and thrusted it down his boxers when he started to rub at her clit but Harry refused to pleasure him and remained limp brushing against the hardened mass.

Harry presses kisses to Louis’ shoulder as the couple shuddered in ecstasy, breathing becoming heavy and Harry bucks his hips up and demands, “Up.”

Louis dosn’t waste time tugging Harry’s hand in an upward motion. Harry has him pressed against the glass door in no time and is grinding their hips much too slowly but Louis’ hands are pinned by his own and he doesn’t have much choice.

Harry’s eyes are bright green when they bore into Louis’ in the quickly approaching sunset, “I’d let you take me right here against the glass if there was lube.”

Louis shake his head and tucks that idea into the back of his mind and quickly turns his head when Harry thrusts his face forward and ends up kissing his cheek, “Wanna make slow, sweet love to you. Wanna take my time with you, make it last. Wanna kiss your body red and go slow, wanna hit everything.”

Harry rumbles into the kiss, letting Louis dominate with his tongue. Somehow he parts so that he can pull the door open and stumbles over Louis’ feet on the way to the bed. Louis shucks his hoodie before he mounts Harry’s hips, tugs at Harry’s until his expanse of skin is revealed in the dimly lighted room. Louis is breathless as he moans grinding into Harry’s hips. Harry’s face is scrunched in painful pleasure, bright red and hot. Louis starts at his chin, peppering down his luscious body and lapping at the trickle of hair between the elastic of his briefs and his belly button.

He pushes Harry further up the bed but keeps his fingers hooked in the elastic so that when he slides all garments are sliding off. He slides off the end of the bed, making sure that Harry’s joggers are all the way off and he drops them to the floor, hooking his own flannel off, revealing his own mass of hardness. Louis grabs the heel of Harry’s foot as he pushes himself on his elbows to watch, Louis gently tucks it to the bed so that he’s spread apart and continues his kissing upward from Harry’s ankle to his knee and back down his thigh where he sucks hard and repeats on the other leg.

Harry is sweaty and uncomfortable by the time Louis slides the condom on. He watches as he slicks his fingers with the familiar substance and crawls so his head is between his legs while he slides in. He angles his hand so that he can wrap his mouth around Harry’s dick while his fingers protrude in the most offending place. Harry lifts his elbows and drops his back to the sheets as he groans at the double sensation.

Louis takes caution and pulls away, coating the condom with extra lube and he crawls up Harry’s body, his teeth bite at Harry’s neck and he whispers in his ear, “You ready yet baby?”

Harry stutters and he thinks he can’t breath but manages a feminine sounding, “Yes.”

Louis ignores his desperation, and his own, and meanders down Harry’s body once again, nipping at not two but four nipples and licking the creases between ribs, “Love you so much baby.”

Harry is silent and panting and his hands grip Louis’ hair harshly.

“Say you love me baby,” He trails back up and mumbles the words by Harry’s ear, gripping tightly at his ears and Harry’s got his eyes squeezed shut, “Look me in the eyes and say you love me baby.”

“I,” Harry gulps and forces his orbs open, “Fuck Louis.”

“No fucking tonight,” Louis shakes his head, removing his planted legs from either side of Harry’s body, pushing him over with a grunt onto his stomach. He straddles his back, teasing him as the tip of his hardened mass brushes against the skin of his back as he leans over him, “Gonna make this hard baby, huh?”

Harry groans with ferocity and Louis gets pleasure from it, he sucks hard at the base of his neck and trails love bites down the spine of his back to the crack of his bum before trailing back up. He sits his body down on his back and grinds down, massaging his hands down Harry’s back.

“Are you ready yet baby?” Louis pesters, feeling the goosebumps down Harry’s muscular back under his skin, “Gonna look me in the eyes and tell me you love me?”

Harry nods with his eyes squeezed shut and Louis uncages his body so he can roll onto his back again.

Louis hands trail through Harry’s hair, pushing his head back, “Baby, look at me.”

Harry eyes open carefully and his breath is short and unsteady and Louis is smirking down at him dangerously.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll show you how much I love you,” Louis kisses at his salty forehead, “Make it easy, tell me you love me and I’ll rock you.”

“I-”

“You what?” Louis mumbles, pressing his hips deep, “C’mon baby I know you want this. Three little words baby and I’m in.”

Louis watches as Harry squeezes the sheets tightly and Louis rolls his hips to torture him a little bit more, “I lov-”

“C’mon baby,” Louis reaches behind his body and down to fondle Harry’s balls, “So close baby.”

Harry eyes squeeze tight and he manages to spit out an “I love you.”

Louis tisks and rolls in impatiency, “Open your eyes baby, want you to look at me when you say it.”

In a split second it’s almost over and Harry crashes the three words into one, “Iloveyou.” Louis smirks over him and kisses his lips.

“I knew you could do it baby,” He reaches down between their bodies and graps Harry’s thigh quickly and he gets the message to bend his knees. Louis guides himself in with the help of his hand and Harry’s body stiffens at the slow movement.

Louis waits a bit longer than usual for Harry’s body to adjust and Harry finally peels his eyes open and Louis releases his hips slowly. It’s so slow that Harry doesn’t know what to do with himself. His hands itch to touch himself but Louis stops him, pinning his arms down against the navy sheets. His hips roll incredibly slow and he tries to prolong the motion as long as possible.

Harry’s hands stay fisted and he’s incredibly quiet save for the deep breathing coming from his nose. Gently he stumbles out a few syllables, “L-L-L-Lou-”

“Love you Harry,” Louis lets his chest drop in a push up manner before he presses up again, “Love you so much baby, you don’t even know.”

Harry is shaking right about the time Louis thinks he’s going to lose his own composure, liquid spills between their bodies and Louis’ still rocking incredibly slow but the rigidness Harry’s body exhibits out of ecstasy is enough for him to stumble over his threshold.

Harry is still shaking when Louis manages to catch his breath and he’s trying to breath deeply under the warmth of Louis’ body. Louis is smiling and peppering his lips with bountiful kisses and praises. There is a slickness between their stomachs and Louis knows it’s going to grow sticky because there’s simply no way Harry’s going to be able to muster the strength for a quick shower.

Louis’ smirks grow as he peppers kisses to every available expanse of skin as Harry calms his body and Louis laughs rather loudly when Harry manages to mumble “Wow.”

His hands tangle in Harry’s wet curls as he curls his body into Harry’s. Harry’s arms cage him to his chest as he pulls him in, to spoon from behind. Louis mutters some words of praise because he’s feeling a bit shaky himself.

The in and out of Louis’ breath tucks him into a deep sleep at night and wakes him from his dream in the morning. Harry’s got Louis’ head tucked in his neck and Louis mumbles in his sleep and Harry begins to formulate lyrics in his head.

And he’s been contemplating what to write Louis in the back of his album, because really ten out of twelve songs are written about their relationship and really Louis is his muse.

So he scribbles a few possibilities on a sheet of paper he keeps on Louis’ nightstand in case he gets inspiration from his dreams, which actually happens more than you’d think.

And a few months later, when the CD is finished and filled to capacity, Harry writes his thanks to a select few people, Zayn, Geoff, and really the only other person he owes thanks to is Louis.

In the back of the album, in superscript print is the last letter that reads:

And of course to Louis, for being the Mona Lisa to my smile. All the love in the world.


End file.
